One day, she awoke from her dreams, only to find herself...
Well, that was the question—where was she? She had no answer. The universe remained silent. Fate, ever the cruel master, ignored her plight. And so did whatever higher power ruled this strange place.
She never expected to find herself like this, yet here she was—wherever here might be. Heaven? Hell? Limbo? It made no difference. This place was barren, hollow, and cold—terrible in every possible way.
But there was one truth she knew with painful certainty:
She was dead.
Utterly, irrevocably, unmistakably dead.
A premature death had stolen the quiet life she once knew. And now she lingered, stuck in a void beyond time and space. A limbo of monotony and stillness... waiting... for something... anything.
Then it came—a disturbance in the void.
A force. Pushing her. Calling her.
A radiant light, bright and blinding, surged forward and cut through the shadows. It pierced the stillness and monotony that had consumed her. Was it salvation? Was this the hope she had long forgotten? Did it even matter?
With nothing left to lose, her hand reached toward the light.
A chilling wind scraped across her skin—a frigid, cruel cold that invaded her bones without mercy. She shivered. Gone was the comforting warmth of the void, ripped away without warning. She longed for it, but it would not return.
She was alive.
She shouldn't be, but she was. Life, it seemed, had chosen her again. Unreliable even in death.
Air flooded into her lungs—a sharp, unfamiliar sensation. An overwhelming instinct gripped her.
She cried.
She didn't know why. But her body, tiny and helpless, cried out.
Then warmth came again—not from the void, but from fabric. Soft, swaddling cloth cocooned her, held by gentle hands.
The light of a new world filled her vision.
And through that light, she saw—her.
A woman. Pale skin. Long black hair. Crimson eyes that gleamed with emotion. A flawless face that seemed too perfect to be real. No scars. No blemishes. Just... beauty, radiant and otherworldly.
The woman smiled down at her, her voice trembling with joy.
> "You have the eyes of your father."
The words confused her. Father?
The woman's eyes softened with sorrow—and pride.
> "Even if he will not acknowledge you, I always will. Your mother will always love you. You will always be my child."
> "You will always be... my little Asami."
What?
What was happening!?
Her heart thundered in her fragile chest. Her mind—once mature and rational—spiraled into chaos. A name... She had been given a name. Asami.
Everything unraveled.
And in that moment, as realization dawned...
Asami cried.
Not from instinct—
But from the grief of knowing everything had changed.